


Adoribull Bits

by sabinelagrande



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Ficlet Collection, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-15
Updated: 2016-04-28
Packaged: 2018-03-23 01:44:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 9,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3750295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabinelagrande/pseuds/sabinelagrande
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Little Bull/Dorian tumblythings, all in one place!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Creamy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For ahunmaster: _Some kind of food play? Don’t know about Qunari, but maybe Tevinter has these sweet or savory treats that Dorian misses? And the Iron Bull just so happens to come across a few to… spruce up the sex that night?_

"This is the cruelest thing you have _ever_ done to me," Dorian said.

"I think it's pretty nice," Bull replied, picking up the jar from the table by the bed.

"Of course, you think it's nice," Dorian said, twisting against the ropes around his wrists. "You're the one doing it."

Bull dipped his finger into the thick, creamy spread, running it up the inside of Dorian's thigh. "I don't think you hate it," he said, finishing in a little swirl before licking his finger clean.

"I hope you saved some," Dorian says, resigned to his fate. "I want to enjoy it properly." The sweet substance wasn't actually anything special, something you could get anywhere in Tevinter; unfortunately, the operative phrase was "in Tevinter." Dorian hadn't had any in a ridiculously long time, and now Bull had decided to torture him with it instead of letting him eat it.

It was _patently_ unfair.

"I want to enjoy it improperly," Bull said, dragging his tongue over Dorian's skin, following the line he'd made with his finger.

"I'm not saying this method doesn't have merit," Dorian said; Bull was perilously close to _finally_ touching him, and he didn't exactly want to dissuade him from it. "But it is definitely unfair that you get to have all of it."

"I got you three more jars," Bull said. "Plenty for you-" he paused to suck the last of the spread off of Dorian's skin- "and plenty for me." He nipped Dorian gently in the same spot. "Now, do you want to keep complaining?"

"I don't think it matters," Dorian said. "You're going to keep torturing me either way."

"Yeah," Bull said, grinning. "But if you started begging instead, it might get you farther."

Dorian sighed. "You're going to be the death of me," he said. He arched up, trying to look as tempting as possible. "But please fuck me first."


	2. Held

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For sinope: _An Ode to Bull's Hands. Bull fucking Dorian up against a wall; one hand holds Dorian up, keeping both of his wrists above his head, and the other hand wraps around Dorian's throat. Pretty please?_

Realistically, Bull is supporting Dorian's weight on his hips, but that's not what it feels like. It's Bull's hands that Dorian is focused on. One hand is wrapped around Dorian's wrists, both of them, like Dorian is something tiny, like he's so easy to trammel. Bull may not be using it to support him, but he has Dorian's hands stretched far enough over his head that Dorian feels the strain in his arms; he might as well be hanging from them for how much it hurts- not horribly, not like Bull's going to break him, but constant, an ache that only gets worse over time, never relents, so that Dorian can't stop thinking about it.

The other hand- more dangerous, more terrifying- is around Dorian's neck, heavy and even more unavoidable. He's not squeezing, but Dorian knows he could be, could snuff out Dorian's life just by closing his hand. Dorian knows there was a time when he'd have done just that, taken out another Vint with little effort and no remorse. 

But somehow, they both became different things, went down new paths; Bull is not an unfeeling assassin any more than Dorian is a maleficar. At some point, Dorian became the sort of person who would allow himself to be pinned against a wall and fucked by The Enemy; at some point, Bull became the sort of person whom Dorian would trust to do it.

Bull slides a finger from Dorian's throat up to his chin, tipping Dorian's face upwards, and Dorian doesn't have a choice but to look at him.

"You're wandering off on me, kadan," Bull says, in a low, growling murmur. What's going to take Dorian apart isn't Bull's hands; it's the look on his face, full of a love that Dorian is only just beginning to comprehend.

"I would never, amatus," Dorian says, and Bull smiles, the lazy grin that fills Dorian with a heat that seems to reach to his very toes.

"Good," Bull says, giving him a long, lingering kiss. "Because I don't intend to let you get away."


	3. Showpiece

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For alphabetiful: _Adoribull, showing off your lover? Either kinky or fluffy is great!_

Dorian thinks about it:

Bull sitting next to him in the middle of his favorite park in Minrathous, in the shady copse where lovers congregate in the summertime. Bull peels an orange, feeds Dorian sections of it while Dorian leans back against him, content in Bull's arms. They talk and laugh, idly watching the day slip by, the afternoon giving way to sunset, sunset giving way to night.

Someone laughs at them, and Dorian casually sets the hem of his robes ablaze.

\--

Bull thinks about it:

Dorian, stripped and bound. A collar and leash, but not for punishment; Bull would never compare that and this. A crowd to watch; not big, just a few. Ten or ten thousand, it doesn't matter; nothing matters but Dorian, but proving how good he is, how much he can take, how much Bull wants him. Bull would- has, does- tell everyone, because there's no keeping it inside, and this would only be the logical extension, the proof positive that Dorian is his and that Bull loves it.

Besides, Dorian's so proud of how far down he can take Bull's-

\--

"Mine was rather more bucolic than yours," Dorian says, before Bull can finish.

"You asked a question, I gave an honest answer," Bull says innocently. "You lit people on fire in yours."

Dorian waves a hand dismissively. "They deserved it."

"Mine is safer," Bull says.

"Only because mine was in Minrathous," Dorian counters. "I'm given to assume it wouldn't be quite so dangerous somewhere else."

"I know a nice grove," Bull says invitingly. "Once the weather's warmer, we could go have a picnic."

"Why do I have a feeling I know what you want for dessert?" Dorian says, arching an eyebrow.

"It would be tasteful," Bull assures him. "Nice foliage for people to look in through. Very classy. We can even skip the collar if you want."

"How magnanimous of you," Dorian says, not without amusement. "Ah, well. I'm fairly certain if we went on a picnic, everyone would already be well aware of what you intended to do to me."

"You should know by now that there's no chance of shutting me up," Bull says.

"I've made my peace with it," Dorian says, sighing. He straddles Bull's lap, putting his arms around Bull's neck. "Enough talk. These hypothetical people are getting a free show, while I'm getting cold."

"I can fix that," Bull says, grabbing Dorian's ass and grinding up against him. "Why should they have all the fun?"


	4. Bracing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For falsechaos: _Tender aftercare, like Dorian helping Bull with his brace?_

"We really don't have to do it against the wall if it's going to leave you like this," Dorian says, putting Bull's arm around his shoulders and helping him towards the bed. Bull knows that if he lets Dorian take his full weight, Dorian will just crumple, but it's enough to get him seated.

"I think it's because we did it against the wall twice," Bull says, carefully turning so he can stretch his leg out, wincing as he does it. 

"You really should be taking precautions," Dorian says, as he gingerly sits down.

"You try wearing a metal brace with no pants on," Bull grumbles.

"You need it replaced," Dorian says firmly. "If the leather wasn't almost worn through, it wouldn't matter if you wore it next to your skin." He lifts Bull's leg, and before Bull can stop him, he settles it across his own thighs. It feels so good just to prop up his leg that Bull doesn't argue. Let it be on Dorian's head if he gets trapped.

"It's faster to-" Bull starts, but then Dorian starts massaging his knee, and he lets out a groan of satisfaction instead.

"Just relax," Dorian says; Bull knows that the strength he's putting in would be too much for a human's knee, but it's just right for a qunari's. 

Bull settles back against the headboard, sinking deeper into the bed. "You have amazing hands, kadan."

"No complaints so far," Dorian says. "I do feel like I owe you, after all."

"Why's that?" Bull asks, shutting his eyes.

"It is sort of my fault that you're in pain," Dorian says. "I might have been a bit insistent on choice of venue. I know I can be a touch pushy at times."

Bull laughs. "You? Pushy?"

"I'm as shocked as you are," Dorian says dryly. "I'll make it up to you."

"Mmm," Bull says, both at the suggestion and the way Dorian is loosening the tension in his knee. "Ride me next time and all is forgiven."

"I see that this plan hinges on you not having to move," Dorian says, "but I agree to your terms."

Bull looks down at him, to where Dorian's hands are sneaking up Bull's thigh. "Looks like you're trying to get next time started already."

"We do have a deal," Dorian points out.

"A little more massage," Bull tells him, running his fingers through Dorian's hair. "Then I'm all yours."

Dorian smiles, running his hands down the side of Bull's knee again. "I think I can manage that."


	5. Cut

"I don't know why you ever wear clothes," Bull says, and Dorian is not surprised.

Bull, as is his wont, is sitting on the bed, enjoying the view as Dorian undresses. Dorian really can't blame him. He also can't call him out, given the number of times he's shamelessly ogled Bull. At least they're a matched set.

"I thought you knew by this point that my skin is fairly delicate," Dorian says, undoing the last of his buckles and slipping out of his top.

"Just because I can leave bite marks doesn't mean you have to stay covered," Bull says.

"I have to stay covered _because_ you leave bite marks," Dorian counters. He has some particularly impressive ones right at the moment, including a new one on the inside of his thigh that still aches pleasantly when he moves the wrong way.

"You like it," Bull says dismissively.

"Be that as it may," Dorian says, because there's no sense in denying it, "I'm not going to walk around Skyhold with huge qunari imprints showing."

"Maybe just one?" Bull says.

"No, thank you," Dorian says firmly, though he knows Bull is only baiting him. "I swear, you'd have me wear a great big 'Property of the Iron Bull' sign if you could."

"I'd make it very tasteful," Bull promises.

"I'm surprised you haven't slapped one on my back when I wasn't paying attention," Dorian says.

"Well, I couldn't risk someone else getting his hands on you," Bull says, in the growly voice that sends a thrill up Dorian's spine.

Dorian snorts, because if he doesn't have his haughtiness, then really, what does he have. "Yes, you were very happy to cut me from the herd immediately."

Without even turning around, Dorian knows something has just gone horribly wrong. Bull hasn't responded; Dorian expected some immediate riposte, but it's not forthcoming.

He turns back, and Bull is just sitting there, looking tense. "What did I say?" Dorian asks cautiously.

"Is that really what you think of me?" Bull asks quietly.

Dorian isn't sure how to answer that. "Yes?"

"Okay," Bull says; as much of an expert as Bull is in schooling his facial expressions, Dorian can still tell he's very upset.

"I don't know why you're reacting like this," Dorian says, perplexed. "I assumed that was something you knew. I thought you were proud of it, actually."

Bull nods. "Sure."

Dorian sighs. "Something has gone horribly wrong here."

"Yep," Bull says.

"Will you just stop it?" Dorian snaps. "I don't know what I've done. You seem to love bragging about your conquest. I didn't think you'd be so offended by my saying so."

Bull stares at him in confusion. "Wait, what?"

"Do you not know what that phrase means?" Dorian says, frowning.

"Are you sure _you_ do?" Bull asks.

"It's what a predator does," Dorian explains. "They select their prey, separate it from its fellows, catch it, and devour it. Some people might consider it a compliment, honestly."

"Oh," Bull says, looking surprised.

"I'm guessing it means something very different in Qunlat," Dorian says uncertainly.

"Qunari are bred like animals," Bull says; sometimes Dorian is struck by how easily he talks about it, but then again, he himself was bred for magic. "When it comes to breeding, anything inferior is worthless. So if a Qunari is physically lacking, or unable to breed-"

"Or won't even try," Dorian finishes. "Oh, Bull." He walks over, putting his arms around Bull's neck, resting his face between Bull's horns. "Amatus, I didn't know."

"I'd never think of you like that, kadan," Bull says adamantly. " _Ever_."

"I know you wouldn't," Dorian says. He's not sure how he ended up comforting Bull because of potential offense that Bull could have caused _him_ , but here they are.

"I like it your way much better," Bull says after a long moment, pulling back slightly and wrapping his hands around Dorian's hips. "Makes me sound like a hunter."

Dorian knows from the look in his eye that Bull is about to distract both of them from this incident with sex; Dorian is disinclined to stop him, because it sounds like exactly what they need. "I suspected you'd enjoy it," he says, running his hands up the length of Bull's horns. "I am thoroughly caught, after all."

Bull suddenly pulls him forward and flops back onto the bed, leaving Dorian stretched out on top of him. "I think that means I should devour you," Bull says.

Dorian kisses him soundly. "You'll hear no complaints from me," he says, and Bull grins.


	6. Rock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For alphabetiful: _how about: don't rock the boat_

_"And she told him, 'Love, don't rock the boat!'"_

It was getting late, and unsurprisingly, the tavern had devolved into a singalong, once again led by the Chargers. Dorian sat next to Bull, listening; he'd heard them sing it before, and his curiosity was getting to him now.

"Did Krem teach you that song?" Dorian asked, above the sound of the rollicking chorus.

"No," Bull replied, frowning. "Why?"

"That's a Tevene melody," Dorian explained. "It goes with a children's game."

Bull gave Dorian a look. "If this is what Tevinter children's games are like, I suddenly understand a lot more."

"The original is a lot less colorful, I assure you," Dorian said wryly.

"It's not so strange," Bull said. "Happens a lot with soldiers. They hear songs in other places, and then they make up new words."

"Oh, I'm aware," Dorian said. "I know some words to Orlesian waltzes that would make your ears burn. It's just-" He put a hand on his tankard, aimlessly swirling it around. "I haven't heard that song for a long time."

_"Then her pa said, 'Son, don't rock the boat!'"_

"Bet you'd never heard it quite like this, either," Bull said.

"There are fewer instances of public sex and precipitous matrimony in the version I'm familiar with, yes," Dorian said. He shook his head, taking a sip of his beer. Bull put an arm around his waist, sliding closer. For once, Dorian didn't protest; instead, he rested his head on Bull's shoulder, leaning into him.

"Makes you homesick?" Bull asked.

"Not exactly," Dorian said. "Unless it's possible to be homesick for a time, not a place."

"Isn't that what homesickness really is?" Bull said. "It's not really about what's there. It's about how you remember what was there."

"Perhaps you're right," Dorian said. The song finally reached its finish, and the Chargers fell into laughter, slapping each others' shoulders. "Ah, well. No use dwelling on it, I suppose."

Bull rubbed Dorian's back soothingly; he wanted to say something encouraging, but when Dorian got into a mood like this, it was better not to engage him. He'd get over it in his own time. "Why don't we go back to my room?" Bull said, because Dorian was almost always happy to be distracted by sex while he got over things.

"I think that's a wonderful idea," Dorian said. "If nothing else, I do believe they're going to start singing that terrible song about Nevarra next."

"Which one?" Bull asked. "The one about the mabari or the other one?"

"The other one," Dorian said, standing up. "The one that makes me feel like I need a bath."

"Yeah, I could do without another round of that one," Bull said, pushing himself off the bench. "Come on. Let's get out of here."

Dorian walked away, leaving Bull to follow him. Bull gave the Chargers a wink as he left. Dorian never needed to know that Bull was the one who wrote that particular song; if Dorian couldn't see how inspired it was, then, well, that was his own shortcoming.


	7. Nurture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For an anon: _Dorian hears that Bull likes hot chocolate. He goes out of his way to get some for Bull. Fluff ensues._ Also for thekingofcarrotflower: _Bull being sick & Dorian taking care of him_.

When Bull opened his eyes on the fourth day, Dorian was sitting at his bedside. He'd fallen asleep sitting up, his mouth hanging open in the thoroughly undignified way that he refused to admit that it did. Bull didn't want to wake him, mostly because it was hilarious, but Dorian startled awake almost instantly.

"Getting your beauty sleep?" Bull asked.

"I know you're feeling better if you're goading me," Dorian said, putting the back of his hand on Bull's forehead. "I think your fever is still gone."

"I'm better," Bull said. It wasn't hard to say; anything would have been better than the raging fever and hallucinations he'd been having the last few days. "Good enough to get out of this bed."

"You will do no such thing," Dorian said, with a confidence that said he knew Bull would probably fall over if he tried.

"If you insist," Bull said.

"I do," Dorian told him, picking up a wet cloth from the basin by the bed. "Who is Tama?"

Bull frowned. "What?"

"You kept calling me 'Tama' while you were delirious," Dorian said, looking away as he wrung out the cloth, but Bull could still hear the tension in his tone.

"I must have really been out of it," Bull said. Dorian's face told him it was the wrong answer. "Under the Qun, the Tamassrans are responsible for bringing up children and caring for the sick. Tama is a kind of nickname for them."

"So you thought I was your nanny?" Dorian asked, raising an eyebrow.

"If it makes you feel any better, Tamassrans take care of a Qunari's sexual needs too," Bull told him.

"I honestly can't decide if that makes it better or worse," Dorian said, though he seemed appeased. He patted Bull's forehead with the cloth before kissing his brow. "Since you're a little bit more yourself today, I brought you something."

"I don't get presents when I'm not myself?" Bull teased.

Dorian put the cloth back in the basin, standing up. "I generally like to wait until you're able to enjoy them. I do deserve credit, after all."

Bull pushed himself up on his elbows, watching Dorian walk over to the table in the corner. He must have been feeling better, because for the first time in several days he was able to focus enough to properly ogle Dorian's ass. As high quality of an ass as it was, it was difficult to appreciate it when the room was spinning.

"I only know how to make it in the Tevinter style, which shouldn't be surprising, so be prepared," Dorian said, and Bull looked up from his leering to study what he was doing. There was a copper pot, a pair of cups, and a small tin on the table, and Dorian was doing something to the pot, something that looked complicated and magicky. Next he picked up the tin, tipping some of the contents into both cups.

It took Bull a moment to realize what he was seeing, and another to believe it. "You got cocoa?"

"I used to have it when I was sick as a child," Dorian said, pouring the now steaming milk into the cups and stirring the mixture quickly. He paused. "Maybe it's not such a surprise you mistook me for a nanny."

"Tamassran," Bull corrected.

"Yes, yes," Dorian said. He picked up both the cups, walking back and putting one of them into Bull's hands. "Drink up."

Bull lifted the cup to his lips and took a sip, letting the rich taste fill his mouth. They made it differently in Tevinter, spicy and a little bitter, but cocoa was cocoa. It was hard to screw up something that delicious without serious effort, even for the Vints. Bull took another long, satisfying sip before looking up. Dorian was still holding onto his own cup, but he wasn't drinking; Bull considered briefly making a joke about the Tevinter method involving poison, but then he realized what Dorian was waiting for.

"It's perfect," Bull said, raising the cup to him, and Dorian relaxed. "Drink up, yours is getting cold."

"We can't have that," Dorian said, taking a sip and letting out a satisfied hum. "People here don't know what they're missing."

"I'll drink to that," Bull said. He put his free hand on Dorian's knee, and after a moment, Dorian put his own over it, hooking his fingers into the spaces between Bull's. "How many favors did you have to call in?"

"I used the sympathy card," Dorian said. "I don't know how everyone has such a soft spot for you."

"Because I'm just so damn charming," Bull said. He smiled winningly, but a full voiced laugh was not the response he expected.

"Your teeth are all brown," Dorian told him. "It takes away a bit of your supposed charm."

Bull licked his teeth, though he knew it probably didn't do much good. "Charmed you, didn't I?" he said. "You're the toughest customer of them all."

"That would be Vivienne," Dorian said.

"Okay, the toughest customer after Vivienne," Bull allowed. He squeezed Dorian's knee. "Don't worry. I won't tell everyone how sweet you are."

"You most certainly do," Dorian said. "Sometimes at length."

"What can I say?" Bull said. "I want Varric to get it right when he finally writes that book about us."

Dorian sighed. "Please don't encourage him," he said. "You might be kidding, but he's not."

"Who said I was kidding?" Bull said, setting aside his empty cup. "C'mere and sit with me for a minute."

"Oh, alright," Dorian said, putting his own cup next to Bull's. "But we're _only_ sitting. You're still not at your best."

"That's okay, kadan," Bull said; he would have loved to have been able to just manhandle Dorian into his lap like usual, but the lingering weakness from his illness made it much too difficult. Dorian got the idea anyway, sitting down next to him and putting his head on Bull's shoulder.

"I worried about you," Dorian said, after a long moment. "When you were delirious and shaking-"

Bull hooked an arm around Dorian's waist, holding him tight. "It'd take a lot more than a high fever to bring me down," he said gently. "Can't get rid of me that easy."

"See that you don't do it again," Dorian said, and Bull could hear the emotion in it, even under his scolding tone.

"I'll try," Bull said. "Didn't exactly enjoy it." He kissed the top of Dorian's head. "Relax, kadan. The worst of it is over. I'll be up and around in no time."

"You're going to stay right here," Dorian said sternly. "I won't have you tiring yourself out."

"You'd make a good Tamassran," Bull said. "If you were, y'know, Qunari and a woman. You have the tone of voice down though."

"I can't decide if that's a compliment," Dorian said; he moved closer, draping an arm across Bull's chest. "But I'll take it."


	8. Touchy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For iambickilometer and dichotomous-dragon, who wanted to see something from the future of [honey we're the big door prize](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4116418).

Dorian hates Orlesians.

That's neither universally true nor something Dorian would say out loud. It's just something he considers frequently when he has to deal with large groups of the masked idiots. They're so enamored of their precious Game; Dorian shares the opinion of his countrymen on the subject, namely that the whole thing is completely laughable. The fact that they have to hide their faces to lie successfully is really just pitiful.

Dorian would not be so uncharitable if one of them hadn't decided he was enamored of Dorian. In another circumstance, he would have long since unleashed invective upon the man, the likes of which the poor bastard had never experienced. Unfortunately, he's the hanger-on of an invited guest at a formal event, and Trevelyan, well. She wouldn't be angry, just _disappointed_ , and Dorian can't stand when she gets like that.

Soon, Dorian may not have the chance to salvage this situation. He's been doing his best to not even make eye contact, but any moment, the man is going to touch him. It is almost certainly going to burn, and Dorian is almost certainly going to punch him in the face.

The man leans closer, but then he stops, looking at a point over Dorian's head. Dorian realizes what's happening just in time to not jump in surprise when a pair of arms encircle him, strong and warm and comforting.

"How's it going, kadan?" Bull asks, and Dorian can tell he's smiling- or showing a lot of teeth, anyway.

"Right on time, amatus," Dorian says, leaning into him. He gives the man the coldest stare he can muster. "This gentleman was just leaving."

Even through a mask, Dorian can see how he freezes, very suddenly realizing that things could go very badly for him if he does not remove himself from this situation. Dorian relishes the way he bows sloppily and runs away, slipping into the crowd with admirable speed and disappearing.

"Should I go kick that guy's ass?" Bull asks, resting his chin on the top of Dorian's head.

"No harm done," Dorian says. "Or rather, just enough harm done to merit being scared away but not pursued."

"Works for me," Bull says. "Wanna dance?"

"Are you actually asking if I want to dance, or did you have something a bit more private in mind?" Dorian asks.

"You pick," Bull tells him.

Dorian extracts himself, turning to look at Bull. "Take me away from all this," he says imperiously, holding out a hand.

Laughing, Bull takes it. "C'mon. Let's get out of here."


	9. Rule

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [iambickilometer](http://iambickilometer.tumblr.com): _adoribull: it's not getting better/ it's not getting any easier_

Dorian taps his fingers against his bedroll.

Again.

He can't seem to stop doing it; it's a wonder that Bull hasn't said anything about it. Dorian doesn't know if he's asleep or just faking it, but either way, his incessant tapping has garnered no response.

It's not getting any easier, lying here next to Bull, in a tent barely long enough for Bull's full length, carefully not touching. It's not getting better, the feeling in Dorian's chest, the tightness in his stomach. It's actively getting worse, Dorian's yearning to reach over and touch.

And it is all Dorian's fault.

Dorian, despite his background and despite the appearances he keeps up, is not a stranger to privation, to self-denial; he assumed that a rule as simple as "No intimacy on missions" would be nothing to follow. He slept beside Bull on several occasions before they were anything to each other with absolutely no trouble at all. This should be the easiest thing he does all day by far.

But Bull is _right there_ , so close that Dorian could touch with the slightest effort; he knows what Bull would feel like, his sleep-warm skin, his big hands so gentle as they stroke Dorian's back when Dorian can't sleep. The whole tent smells like Bull, and it is positively maddening, compounded by the fact that Dorian would disappoint no one but himself if he broke his rule.

Bull shifts in his sleep, and sweet Maker, he's doing it again, the rumbling purr that he makes sometimes when he's very tired or very relaxed. Dorian doesn't know how he could _possibly_ be relaxed; it seems unfair that all the tension that Dorian is feeling hasn't radiated out, leached into the very air of the tent.

Fuck. This.

Dorian tosses his blanket away, and before he can think twice about it, he's straddling Bull's hips. Bull, that asshole, is not asleep, and he gives Dorian the most ridiculous, most breathtaking smile, one that Dorian can feel all the way to the tips of his toes. Bull is on the verge of saying something, but Dorian puts his fingers to Bull's lips before he can; Bull only smiles wider, and Dorian can't help but replace fingers with mouth, kissing Bull over and over again. He lays a hand on Bull's chest, balancing himself, and he can _feel_ Bull's purring, his chest rumbling under Dorian's fingers. It should be alien, worrisome, but Dorian just wants to feel more and more of it, to keep Bull making that sound. 

Let the rest of them hear, if they must. Dorian needs this, needs Bull, more than he needs his reputation, more than he needs his propriety, maybe- terrifyingly- more than he needs anything.

It was a stupid rule anyway.


	10. Ruff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For justjasper: _Adoribull Prompt Sunday! Skyhold gets mabari kennels. Iron Bull and Dorian are smitten, to varying degrees._

Bull is shocked that Dorian wants to get anywhere near Skyhold’s newly introduced mabari. Bull is even more shocked when Dorian adopts one, and more shocked than that when the dog loves him immediately. Apparently the dog doesn’t understand it when Dorian goes on and on about the inferiority of Ferelden in all things- though admittedly, Dorian doesn’t do that nearly as much as he used to.

Bull thought that was the limit of shock with regards to the Dorian-and-mabari situation, but when Bull walks into their room one night, he finds out that he was spectacularly wrong.

“Uh,” Bull says.

“Good evening,” Dorian says, turning another page in his book.

“Why is there a mabari in my bed?” Bull asks, not sure what else there is to say.

Dorian reaches down, scratching between the dog’s ears, and it pants happily. “He has a name, you know,” Dorian says disapprovingly. “And it’s our bed, as you often point out.”

“Why is Gaius in our bed?” Bull tries, recognizing that he should probably pick his battles.

“He was all alone down there,” Dorian says, putting down his book and stroking Gaius’s head. “I can’t just leave him in a crate all by himself.”

“He’s a dog,” Bull says. “That’s what you do with dogs.”

“Perhaps that’s the kind of treatment they get in Ferelden, but it’s not fair,” Dorian says stubbornly. “He’s not some pack animal.”

“He’s a war dog,” Bull says; all of this is a little too surreal for him to come up with anything more persuasive. “They’re trained to attack. They get soft if you pamper them.”

“I could say much the same of you, and I let _you_ sleep in the bed,” Dorian says, and Bull narrows his eye. “He’s not hurting anyone. He just likes having a comfortable place to sleep. Isn’t that right, Gaius?”

The dog barks in response, rolling around on his back.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Bull mutters. “Look, it’s my bed, I’m tired, and the dog is in my spot.”

Dorian sighs heavily. “Fine,” he says. He nudges Gaius’s side. “Off you go, there’s a good boy.”

Gaius hops off the bed, and Bull would swear that the dog gives him a look before going to settle in front of the hearth.

He is far too much like his owner.

Bull strips down, laying his clothes and harness in their usual spot before climbing into bed next to Dorian. “I can’t believe you tried to replace me with a dog,” he grumbles, pulling Dorian towards him.

“I wasn’t trying to replace you,” Dorian says. “Merely supplement.” Bull rolls his eye, but he kisses Dorian anyway. He slides his hand down Dorian’s stomach, but Dorian catches it before he gets anywhere interesting. “Stop.”

“What’s wrong?” Bull asks, concerned.

“We can’t,” Dorian whispers. “Gaius is looking at us.”

“The dog goes,” Bull says firmly.

“Unfortunately, I am forced to agree,” Dorian says. He extracts himself, picking up his discarded clothing and pulling it on. “Come, Gaius. What doesn’t kill you make you stronger, I suppose.”

The dog whines in protest, but he stands up, walking over and sitting at Dorian’s feet. Unable to help himself, Bull slaps Dorian’s ass. “Hurry back,” he says, grinning.

Iron Bull, 1. Dog, 0.


	11. Beautiful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For tikaon: _Adoribull Prompt Sunday: Making something beautiful_

Dorian is drunk.

In fairness, everybody is pretty drunk. Josephine and Adaar’s wedding has been a lavish affair, and the wine and champagne (and beer and hard liquor) are flowing freely. No one else is left at the table but Bull and Dorian, everyone else gone off to dance, and Dorian has stolen all the drink napkins from the table.

He has them sitting in a pile in front of him; Bull really doesn’t know why, but he was very emphatic about needing them. It seems relatively harmless for drunk people logic, so Bull hasn’t interfered. Dorian’s doing something with them, folding them into trumpet-like shapes with surprisingly dextrous fingers and stringing them together on bits of the tinsel that rests around the bottoms of the vases in the middle of the table.

Bull himself is a little tipsy, so he just watches, wondering where all of this is going. After a long while, Dorian sits back, observing his good works, adjusting things here and there. Now Bull gets it; it’s a kind of makeshift floral garland.

“Give me your horns,” Dorian says suddenly, gathering it up in his hands.

Bull frowns. “What?”

“Bend down, there’s a good man,” Dorian says. He pauses. “Or qunari. Whichever.”

Bull is starting to think he knows where this is going, but he does it anyway. As he suspected, Dorian starts looping it around Bull’s horns, decorating him thoroughly before he lets Bull go.

Dorian takes a long look at him, and Bull is prepared for him to start cracking up. Instead, Dorian nods approvingly. “Perfect, amatus,” he says, leaning in and giving Bull a peck on the lips.

Bull can just see the end of the garland- which is in fetching shades of pink, thanks to the napkins- where it dangles from his horn. “Is this a Vint tradition I’m not aware of?”

“Flowers for the one you love?” Dorian says. “I thought that was fairly widespread.”

Bull grins. “Aww, you love me.”

Dorian puts his arms around Bull’s neck. “If you haven’t figured that out by now, you must be very slow.” Bull pulls him in, kissing him, and neither of them notice the photographer lurking next to them.


	12. Late

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For pearwaldorf: _having some “private time” and the other accidentally walking in_
> 
> Spoilers for Trespasser!

It's later than Dorian wanted; the sun has almost set, and no matter what happens, Dorian has to leave when it rises again. Every minute is precious, and Dorian intends to wring all the pleasure he can out of each and every one of them.

He leaves his mount in the stable and races up the steps, taking off his gloves and traveling cloak as he goes and leaving them on the table inside the door. If Bull is already here, he's in the kitchen or upstairs, and Dorian is well aware that food is the last thing on either of their minds.

He climbs the stairs two at a time, hurrying to his destination, but he stops short just inside the open door of the bedroom. Bull is sprawled out on the bed, completely naked; one of his hands is behind his head, and the other is on his cock, stroking it in slow, lazy passes. The picture he makes is deliciously, unrepentantly obscene, and Dorian wants him so badly he _aches_.

"You're late, kadan," Bull tells him. "I was starting to get worried."

"I was detained," Dorian says, still openly leering. "I came all this way and you started without me?"

Bull chuckles, his voice a low rumble that Dorian swears he can feel from across the room. "Just warming it up for you."

"Under the circumstances, I think I'm overdressed," Dorian says, quickly unfastening his robes; it's good that his customary traveling clothes are not all that complicated to remove, because he can't seem to drag his eyes away from Bull's body long enough to concentrate.

"Going to give me a little show?" Bull suggests.

Dorian snorts, letting his clothes drop carelessly around him. "Would you rather have me waste time dancing about, or should I just come over there and suck your cock?"

"Well, when you put it _that_ way," Bull says, and now he's ogling Dorian; Dorian gets rid of the rest of his clothing and joins him on the bed, letting Bull pull him into an embrace.

"Sweet Maker, I missed you," Dorian says, against the skin of Bull's shoulder, and Bull holds him tighter. Despite all Dorian's complaining about damaged ribs, he only hugs back, holding Bull like the world will end if he lets go.

After long moments, they finally part; Dorian wraps a hand around one of Bull's horns and pulls him in for a kiss. "Now, let's see what you so courteously got ready for me," he says, tracing his fingers up the underside of Bull's cock.

"I don't think you'll be disappointed," Bull says, with a grin.

Dorian kisses him again. "I haven't been yet, amatus."


	13. Drenched

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For JeziBelle: _being drenched whilst wearing white_

"Well, this is a fine mess," Bull's neighbor says. Bull doesn't actually know his name, just that he lives in the apartment next door and has been known to bang on the wall when Bull gets enthusiastic in bed. This is the kind of event that pulls people together, Bull supposes; nothing like a fire alarm at 4 AM in the pouring rain to breed camaraderie.

Bull studies him out of the corner of his eye, trying to be at least a little subtle about it. His neighbor is wearing an expensive-looking suit of pajamas in either satin or silk; the irony of it is that he started as the best-dressed person out here, but he's turning into the most obscene. The pajamas are white, unfortunately, and the more it rains, the more translucent and clingy they get. It started with the appearance of nipples, and now Bull can tell what side the man dresses to- and if that's what he's packing in the cold rain, Bull could definitely stand to see him warmed up.

"Here, take this," Bull says, taking the blanket off of his shoulders and holding it out; he's done his fair share of ogling, and now he just feels bad for the guy. Besides, the rain's bound to be worse on someone who doesn't run as hot as Bull.

The man looks at him warily, as if he's looking for the catch. "You're sure?" he asks.

"Go on," Bull says. "You look like you could use it."

He still looks suspicious, but he takes it anyway, wrapping it around himself; it covers considerably more of him than it did on Bull, and Bull takes a moment to mourn the loss of his view. "Thank you," he says. There's a pause, and then he adds, "It's Dorian, by the way."

"Bull," he replies. "I'm from 12A."

"Oh," Dorian says, in a voice that somehow manages to convey "I know far too much about your sex life" in a very short time. "Is it just you, or-?"

"Just me," Bull says cheerfully, purposefully ignoring the multiple implications of that statement. "You should come over for dinner some night."

Dorian looks him up and down, and Bull realizes what _he_ looks like, out here in nothing but flip-flops and a pair of old, baggy shorts, which are no doubt now plastered against his skin. "Perhaps I will," he says.

Hey, at least they match.


	14. Play-Act

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [lilsoutherncuss](http://lilsoutherncuss.tumblr.com): _Adoribull (modern?) meet-the-in-laws, Dorian being aggressively servile to Bull to piss off his parents. Bull thinks it’s hilarious and plays up the dominating Qunari role._

Aquinea has not moved an inch in twenty minutes. She is still sitting in the same ramrod-straight position she was when Dorian came in and- Maker preserve them all- sat down on the lap of the overly-large Qunari who is probably decimating the upholstery of Halward's favorite chair. She knows her lack of reaction is a weakness, but she can't quite find it within her to dredge up any semblance of civility at the moment. The Qunari is stroking Dorian's back, and Dorian- Dorian, who thinks he plays these games better than his mother- is leaning into it like a stray cat. Dorian is feeding the Qunari small bites from a plate of fruit, and the Qunari is leering at him like it isn't the only thing he wants to eat.

Aquinea is waiting for them to tire of this game. Nothing they could do would top the way Aquinea felt when the Qunari walked in. This is nothing comparatively. This, she can withstand until they bore of it. To do less would be to let them win.

Her husband is another matter.

Halward, as ever, has let Dorian get under his skin. The Pavus blood runs red hot, a regrettable condition that Aquinea is glad never infected her, and no one knows how to fan that flame but another Pavus. Halward cares far too much; he thinks Dorian's tedious game is some kind of failing of his own character. Aquinea can practically hear the way he's seething, can certainly feel the way he's tensed up. He's a few moments from going off, and it will not be Aquinea's fault.

The last time they saw Aquinea's nephew, he remarked that Halward has "zero chill."

Aquinea concurs.

Her son and the Qunari share another look; the Qunari's hand has migrated downward, and Halward shifts forward-

"I'm sure we'd all like some tea," Aquinea says, rising.

She leaves, allowing herself the smallest smile. The fireworks will be quite audible from the kitchen, and from there, no one will be able to see how much she enjoys them.


	15. Systematic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [sinope](http://ao3.org/users/sinope), who wanted a Beauty and the Beast fusion where Dorian is Belle.

It didn't really surprise the Bull when he heard an effusive amount of Tevene profanity coming from the open door of his library. His, uh, guest was standing in the middle of the room, actually pulling at his own hair.

"Something I can help you with?" the Bull asked, stepping in.

Dorian turned, crossing his arms over his chest. "When was the last time these books were alphabetized?" he demanded.

The Bull frowned, nonplussed. "What?"

"Or do you have any kind of structure at all, hmm?" Dorian said. "Because based on the state of some of these piles-" Dorian swept his finger through the dust on one of them, and promptly made a sound of deep-seated revulsion much worse than any he'd ever unleashed on the Bull.

"I don't come in here much," the Bull said, before Dorian could speak again. "Most of my Qunlat books are in my private library."

"Your _private_ library?" Dorian said, in the same voice another man might use when trying to pretend he wasn't overinterested in Bull's treasure vault. "You mean this is just the public section?"

"Yeah," Bull replied. "Some things are too valuable to be out in the open." He waggled his eyebrows. "Or too sexy."

Dorian rolled his eyes, though apparently the Bull's flirting didn't merit any revulsed noises; the Bull couldn't decide if he was cheered or insulted by that. "Well, I hope you keep it in a better state than this one. It is going to take me _days_ to get this into any semblance of a working order."

"You do know this is a private residence, right?" the Bull asked. "It's just me and you here. People don't exactly visit."

Dorian smiled, a tight and utterly hollow smile that somehow made the Bull feel like complete shit. "Yes, but if we don't have our civility, what do we have?"

"Well, have fun with it, I guess," the Bull said.

Dorian sighed. "Fun is irrelevant. Peace of mind is what I'm after."

The Bull seriously doubted Dorian's peace of mind was that easily won, but he was good enough not to mention it. Civility, right?


	16. And Free Bread

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For anonymous: _they both get stood up by their dates and end up spending their evening together._

"How do you feel about revenge sex?" the Qunari says, dropping uninvited into the chair across from Dorian.

Dorian, who prides himself on having repartee for every situation, is completely speechless.

"Excuse me?" Dorian says.

"You got stood up, didn't you?" the Qunari says.

"You're very presumptuous," Dorian replies, crossing his arms.

"You got here an hour ago and bought a bottle of wine, but you've had nothing to eat but bread," the Iron Bull says. "This isn't the kind of place where people get drunk and eat freebies, and besides, you've been nursing that first glass the whole time. I'm the Iron Bull, by the way."

"I'm not sure why you think it's any business of yours, even if it is true," Dorian says. 

"If it is true," the Iron Bull says, "then why don't you come back to my place and stick it to the person who didn't show? We can even take gloating selfies if you want."

A realization dawns on Dorian. "You've been stood up too," he says, and the caught-out look on the Iron Bull's face is very satisfying.

"You got me," he says. "I figured we could pool our resources, since we're both having a crappy night."

Dorian sighs. "I have had better ones, I must admit."

The Iron Bull grins, looking for all the world like he's got Dorian right where he wants him. "So, how about it? Wanna get out of here?"

Dorian decisively picks up his wine glass and drains it. "Buy me dinner," he says, "and then ask me again."


	17. Movie Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [iambickilometer](http://iambickilometer.tumblr.com): _bull/dorian, but like, during the first star wars trilogy_
> 
> I am the most hilarious.

"One movie night," Cullen grumbled. "That's all I wanted. One movie night without interruptions."

"You chose six hours worth of movies, Curly," Varric reminded him. "Imagine what would have happened if we'd let you pick the Godfather trilogy."

"Six hours is not that long," Cullen said stubbornly. "They can keep off of each other for six hours. I've seen them do it before."

"When the lights are low and no one is paying attention, it can be so hard to resist," Josephine said. "Although, Varric's note taking was-"

"Deeply unnecessary," Cassandra put in.

"Aw, thanks," Varric said.

"You and Herah resisted," Cullen said.

Herah gave him a look. "That's because it's Star Wars. Some things are important."

" _Thank_ you," Cullen sighed.

"If it was the prequels, though-" Herah started.

"No dice," Varric said. "That pod race puts me to sleep every time."

"How can you sleep through the pod race?" Cullen said, shocked.

"How can you stay awake?" Varric returned.

Dorian and Bull chose that moment to emerge from the still-darkened lounge; Dorian looked much more disheveled than he'd ever admit to, still straightening his clothing.

"What's on tap for next week?" Bull asked, rubbing his hands together. "Indiana Jones? Lord of the Rings? Krem has the extended editions."

"Or perhaps something very short?" Dorian offered. "In case anyone had anything to do afterwards."

"Your shirt is on backwards," Cassandra told him.

Cullen sighed heavily. "Maybe we should just go back to bowling."


	18. Just a Weed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [alphabetiful](http://alphabetiful.tumblr.com): _adoribull, culture clash, perhaps re: food or something?_

Bull thought, after all this time, he and Dorian had a good thing going. They'd both been through a lot, but it felt nice to be settled, just the two of them. Sure, it hadn't always been the easiest, but they understood each other, and that was what mattered.

Sometimes, Bull was wrong about that.

Bull was cooking dinner, nothing fancy, just a thrown-together pot of soup, lots of spices to cover the fact that some of the components were not as fresh as they could be. He hummed to himself as he worked, busying himself with chopping and stirring.

"Amatus," Dorian said from behind him, and Bull grinned. "You seem unusually chipper."

"You know me," Bull said. "I'm a chipper guy."

"I have my doubts about that," Dorian said, hugging him from behind, his face resting on Bull's back. He let Bull go, stepping around him to look into the pot. When he did, he stopped in his tracks. "Is that silkweed?"

"Huh?" Bull said.

"The greenish brown strands," Dorian said, jabbing a finger at the pot. "That's silkweed."

Bull frowned. "You mean the aanda-raas?"

"Poisoning is a bit beneath you, don't you think?" Dorian said tightly. "If you wanted me out of the way, you could at least have the decency to do it while my back is turned."

"Whoa, slow down there," Bull said, holding up his hands. "I don't know what you think I'm doing. There's aanda-raas growing in the garden, so I chopped some up for the soup. It adds a nice flavor."

"It's called silkweed," Dorian said, "and it's toxic."

"I fed it to the boys all the time," Bull said. "It's obviously Vint-safe."

"I don't know what you fed them, but it couldn't have been silkweed," Dorian said. " _That_ is silkweed."

"Okay," Bull said, taking the pot off the fire.

"What are you doing?" Dorian asked, sounding perplexed.

"I'm not going to make you eat something you think is poisoned, even if you're wrong," Bull told him, as he set the pot on the counter. "Plenty of other things to eat."

It wasn't often anymore, thankfully, that Dorian got surprised when people treated him with basic fucking kindness without his having to fight them on it, and Bull never got used to the way his face looked when it happened. He didn't know whether it was Tevinter or running from it that made Dorian ready to find knives in every kind word; maybe it bothered Bull because he knew exactly how it felt.

"Well," Dorian said, then he paused. "Thank you for seeing it my way."

"No problem," Bull said, with a smile. "Grab me some of those onions. I feel creative."

"Now there's a dangerous statement, if ever I heard one," Dorian said, but he handed over the onions anyway.


	19. Vantage Point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From an anon: _They are out on a mission and Dorian takes a bath in the river. Of course Bull can't keep his hands to himself and they leave a scout with an awkward boner._

It's a nice night out, almost peaceful, and Darius is happy to enjoy the tranquility while it lasts. He's seen too much with the Inquisition to expect peace to go on indefinitely, but for tonight, he's content to sit back against a tree and keep watch.

His particular vantage point on this night encompasses the river that flows along one side of the camp and the woods beyond it. The territory is not entirely unoccupied; people have been coming and going to bathe, most of them out of Darius's line of sight, using the large rock near the shore as a shield from the rest of camp. This is fine by him, because there are some things he just doesn't need to know about his comrades.

Bucking the trend, it seems, is Pavus, who undresses on the shore in full view of camp. Darius wonders why precisely he's taking his modesty in his own hands, so to speak, but shortly after he enters the water, the Iron Bull approaches, throwing off his own clothes and joining him. Darius is pretty sure that by this point, the whole of the Inquisition knows there's something going on between the two of them. He's content to leave them be, though. It's none of his business.

That doesn't mean he stops watching. He's on watch. He's supposed to be watching.

Dorian swims out into the river, farther than most of the bathers have, far enough that he crosses past the rock and back into Darius's line of sight. It's clear he's not there to bathe; he floats for a moment, swimming lazily, splashing the Bull when he comes to join in. The Bull doesn't let him get away with it, grabs him by the leg and reels him in instead, pulling him in close. Dorian doesn't look particularly upset at being caught; he puts his arms around the Bull's neck, pulling himself up and kissing him.

It's not until this moment that Darius really understands that the two of them are about to fuck right in front of him.

He doesn't know what to do about this. He's not the one doing anything wrong- Watch! Watching!- but this is about to happen. Surely the two of them understand that they could be seen from camp. They must get some kind of thrill from it. That's a thing people do, right? It's perfectly okay for him to keep watching.

Regardless of his decision about watching, Dorian and the Bull haven't stopped kissing. Darius can just see the curve of Dorian's ass as the Bull lifts him up and puts Dorian's legs around his waist. Dorian rocks against him, and Darius wonders wildly whether that's comfortable; water is wet, but it isn't very slick. Then again, if river water is slick enough, you're in the wrong river.

Darius is considering both this and the growing bulge in his own breeches when he hears a noise; he whirls around to see two of the other scouts behind him.

"I'm fine," Darius says too loudly. They both give him strange looks, but Darius is not aware of any way to make this situation better.

He makes his excuses and escapes. Watching time is over. Now is possibly the time to find his own rock to hide behind.

If nothing else, at least he knows all about the lines of sight.

\--

"We traumatized another scout," Dorian says, cocking his head towards the now-empty position in the trees.

"Eh," Bull says.


	20. In Error

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For iambickilometer: _immediately after they hook up, bull and dorian are part of another expedition. suddenly living out of each other’s pockets, aaaaawkwaaaard_

Dorian classified his first night with Bull as ill-considered for a number of reasons.

Bull was very far from the first man Dorian had found himself underneath after a few too many drinks. Dorian used to make something of a habit of it, in point of fact. Still, Bull was the first one who clacked his mug down on the table and said, "Come on, let's go back to my room and fuck," something approached with a good deal more circumspection and tact in Dorian's previous misadventures.

Dorian could have, should have, didn't say no, just as he didn't say no all those other times; that made it ill-considered, just as the previous times had been. Granted, his night with Bull was unusually satisfying, as bad decisions went, but the quality of the act (well, acts) didn't make it a good idea.

Even if it didn't involve dipping his pen in the Inquisition ink, so to speak, the night was ill-considered for another major reason: participating in all that drinking and fucking was not an inspired choice when Dorian needed to leave bright and early for the Hissing Wastes.

And the situation was helped in no way by the fact that Herah was a morning person.

"Come on, Dorian," she said, for the fifth time, scampering over the terrain like it was nothing at all.

"Come on yourself," Dorian grumbled.

"Dirty!" Bull said, which both he and Sera got a good belly laugh out of; and yes, on top of everything else, Dorian was stuck in close proximity to Bull a scant few hours after he'd snuck out of Bull's bed.

Despite his raging hangover, the Wastes themselves, and his resultant unquenchable thirst, Dorian somehow stumbled through the day. Another person might have considered his ability to still fight effectively to be a miracle, but Dorian preferred to put it down to his generally superlative abilities.

Because if he didn't have his vanity, then what did he have?

It was easy to keep a careful distance from Bull while they were travelling. Bull, damn his eyes, seemed to be unaffected by the awkwardness of venturing forth with someone he'd so recently tumbled; it was even more unfair that he didn't seem to be hung over. Perhaps there was something to be said for the qunari constitution, and possibly for Bull's outlook on sex.

In camp, unfortunately, quarters were much closer. Suddenly Bull was right there, impossible to avoid, and to top it off, there were only two tents for the four of them- and Maker help Dorian if he tried to lobby Sera and Herah to split up for the evening.

"Is this awkward?" Bull asked, as they both readied for sleep; even with him on the ground and Dorian standing, he was only an arm's length away, entirely too close for Dorian's comfort.

Dorian had the sudden urge to laugh hysterically. "Can't you tell?" he said instead.

Bull shrugged. "It's only awkward if you want to make it awkward. I'm easy."

"Believe me," Dorian said, "I know exactly how easy you are."

"Hey," Bull said, with unexpected gentleness. "If you need it to be a one night thing, then we're done. I'll back off. If you want more, my door is open."

"You are too much," Dorian said indignantly. "I don't understand how-" He broke off with a noise of disgust, his annoyance outrunning his words, but Bull seemed unaffected.

"If you don't know what you want, that's okay too," Bull said calmly. "I'm not occupied at the moment."

"Vishante kaffas," Dorian swore. "I don't want to have this conversation with you."

"So it's that last one," Bull said.

"I'm going to sleep," Dorian said. "Alone, if you don't mind."

"I'll be over here if you need me," Bull said, laying down.

_That's what I'm afraid of_ , Dorian didn't say. He lay down beside Bull, turning resolutely away from him, as if that would be enough, as if literally turning his back would make a difference.

Because it would be too easy, wouldn't it? Dorian would only have to move a scant few feet to give in to temptation again, to make another mistake to compound the errors he'd already committed. It had been an error, hadn't it? He was too old for this sort of thing, too far removed from the person he'd been when he drowned himself in sex to cope with his life.

But really, what was so dangerous about it, this time around? No one was going to come in and rip him away from Bull's arms. Herah would have at minimum some very harsh words for anyone who tried to challenge Dorian on his choice of bed partner. Perhaps his entire world would fall apart if he let himself want, or maybe, just maybe, an ill-considered act and a bad idea weren't the same thing.

"Perhaps just once more," Dorian said quietly, rolling over, and Bull pulled him in.


End file.
